


an opportunity (not a burden)

by skatzaa



Category: Original Work
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Fantasy, Foursome - F/F/F/F, Mentions of Prostitution, OT4, Polyamory, Vague Fantasy-esque Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/pseuds/skatzaa
Summary: Araya knew there were far worse ways to survive in the court of King Azo, especially for a woman of her standing and family history. But sometimes… Sometimes she wished…The light brush of fingers across her shoulder blade brought her back to herself. Araya glanced up and behind, and allowed herself to be comforted by Sannu’s dark eyes, and her sure, steady movements as she unwound the gems from Araya’s braids. As a child, those gems could have kept her entire family fed and clothed for nigh on a year. It was still, in many ways, unimaginable that she should flaunt them so carelessly.
Relationships: High-Ranking Courtesan/Her Handmaidens, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Kudos: 16





	an opportunity (not a burden)

> Love was an opportunity, not a burden.
> 
> _—Darius the Great is Not Okay,_ Adib Khorram

Araya knew there were far worse ways to survive in the court of King Azo, especially for a woman of her standing and family history. But sometimes… Sometimes she wished…

The light brush of fingers across her shoulder blade brought her back to herself. Araya glanced up and behind, and allowed herself to be comforted by Sannu’s dark eyes, and her sure, steady movements as she unwound the gems from Araya’s braids. As a child, those gems could have kept her entire family fed and clothed for nigh on a year. It was still, in many ways, unimaginable that she should flaunt them so carelessly.

At her feet, where she was removing the elaborate gold painted patterns from Araya’s toes—the patterns that Veyt found so appealing—Kessa began to sing. Her voice was honey and silk, soothing after a long day and a longer evening.

Araya closed her eyes and allowed the melody to carry her away from her dour thoughts.

It was not long before Elre emerged from the extensive wardrobe, and she joined Kessa almost immediately, filling in the harmony with her bright, sharp voice. Sannu—her fingers still twining through Araya’s hair—took longer to join, and when she finally dropped into the last third of the harmony, it was with all the exasperation of one who was above such nonsense, but would humor the others anyway.

Araya sat, and listened, and accepted the kindness for what it was. She did not flinch when the pathetic excuse for a dress that she was dropped away, leaving her skin bared to the room, for she knew it was only Elre. And she also knew that Elre would have her engulfed in something far more comfortable and far less revealing in only moments. 

She could weep at the sensation of warm fur against her flesh, if only it took less energy.

At last, the singing faded away, and Araya opened her eyes to find Sannu, rather than Kessa, crouched at her feet. 

“Was it bad?” she asked, and because it was Sannu, Araya knew it was not asked lightly. And, because it was Sannu, she knew she would not manage a successful lie. Sannu had been with her the longest, since before she had been accepted as a novice to the Night court of Azoäna—the Pleasure Houses of King Azo’s Court. They had been friends since they were girls, dreaming of better things for themselves, and Sannu knew her better than Araya knew herself.

“He did not seek to harm me,” Araya said, and she knew Sannu read all of the things hidden in that handful of words. It would not be enough to satisfy her, though. “But Ker Veyt was not gentle.”

He rarely was, but that was the type of pleasure he sought. And, as one of the most highly sought after courtesans in all of Azoäna, it was Araya’s duty to provide that pleasure, so long as the patron did not reach beyond her set bounds.

Veyt never did.

Elre tutted, drawing Araya’s attention. Where Sannu was a still pool of water at midnight, dark eyes and dark skin and dark hair like a cloud across the moon, Elre was flame and early spring days. Her lovely bright hair was caught and pinned in a low knot at the nape of her neck, and there were shadows beneath her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights. Elre said, “Must I report him to the Dowayne again? You know she said he would be barred if—”

“It was not so bad as that,” Araya interrupted, though, in truth, she was not sure she believed her own words. Veyt continued to grow bolder, to take only slightly more than Araya was willing to give, but a third complaint would be taken to the court, and she did not wish to appear before King Azo again so soon. Nor did she think he would believe her, with so little evidence, and his own propensity for bending the rules of the Night Court. 

Elre subsided, but she did not look happy about it. 

Kessa stepped forward and held out a hand, which Araya accepted. As she stood, the fur robe Elre had draped about her shoulders fell more naturally around her body, and she was all the more glad for its added layer of protection. There were no prying eyes here, but she could not forget the feeling of being  _ watched. _

They were her ladies—her confidantes—her dearest friends, and they knew her better than anyone, dead or alive, could ever hope to know her. But still, Kessa—dear, sweet Kessa, who looked like nothing more than a golden summer sunset—hesitated before stepping forward. She kept Araya’s hand in hers, and asked, “May we, milady?”

Araya stepped forward herself. She did not always desire touch after an evening with a patron, but tonight, she found herself craving the comfort they offered. 

Kessa tasted like sugar and jam when Araya kissed her—she had been sneaking treats from her sweetheart in the kitchens again, then. They were of a height, and Araya found it relieing not to have to crane her head back at an awkward angle. 

Warmth surrounded her as Elre and Sannu stepped forward, holding her and guarding her from all harms. She knew that, if she bothered to look, their colors would swirl endlessly together—pale, fiery Elre to golden Kessa, to the desert sandstone of Araya’s own skin, to midnight dark Sannu.

But she did not bother to look. Instead, she pressed more firmly into the kiss, hands coming up to clutch, with embarrassing desperation, at Elre’s hips.

When she drew back, Sannu and Kessa swooped in, each pressing a kiss to her cheeks, lingering, hot breath fanning out across her skin. 

“Come to bed, milady,” Elre whispered. The others said nothing, only waited for Araya’s response.

“Yes,” she said, a deep calm seeping into her bones.  _ This _ was where she belonged—not in a patron’s bed, or entertaining the king and his court with her lute and her voice—but  _ here, _ with these women whom she loved. She said, again, “Yes, to bed.”

Hands ushered her forward, smoothing the way as she made the short, exhausting journey to her bed chambers. They took away the robe and slipped a soft nightgown over her head, the fabric cascading down her body, smooth and cool. Someone guided her toward the bed and helped her settle under the covers. 

Hands twisting her hair into a sleep braid, extinguishing the candles. Lips on her brow, her cheek, the knuckles of her hand.

It was not a perfect life, or an easy one, but it was made easier by their support and affection. 

Araya slept well, knowing they would be waiting when she awoke. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love these girls so much already, but who knows if I will ever return to them. Hopefully, I will.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
